Page 19 of Pages of My Heart

To my dearest Red,

Please don’t be angry with me, sweetheart, but I’ve got to ask you—are you slipping again?

You wrote that you’ve been talking aloud to me when you’re alone at the house, and, well—I know how stress can affect you, and I worry something awful.

Since that letter I’ve had near constant nightmares about you being unable to stay awake, unable to get out of bed.

I’m more fearful of something terrible happening to you than I am of the entire Kraut army.

Red, I beg you, if you’re feeling down, if you see the signs, you’ve got to take yourself over to your sister’s place so you’re at least safe.

I know she doesn’t handle it like you wish she did, but it’s better than going unfed at home alone.

And your position at the school will be in jeopardy if there’s no one to tell them what’s going on and convince them your sickness will pass.

I’ve written to Evie and told her to keep an eye on you.

You can be pissed all you want, but I’m going to do anything I can to make sure you’re okay, and it won’t be until I get your next letter, or hers, that I’ll relax.

I keep hanging onto the thought that you’re helping with little Johnny and that he’s giving you joy and serving as a distraction.

Evie sent me a photograph and he really does look like me—the poor little bub.

I only hope he doesn’t take after me in that other way, and that he can have a happy and successful life.

Jesus, that sounds awful. Don’t take me the wrong way, sweetheart.

I’m forever happy with you. In truth, I wasn’t happy until I met you.

What I mean is, I don’t want Johnathan to have to hide his happiness, like we’ve got to do with ours.

Speaking of Evie, do you think she knows the truth about us?

There’s something about the way she talks about you in her letters—how she speaks of me and you, as if we’re inseparable.

Plus, she told you that you’re Jonathan’s family .

. . What do you make of it? Could we risk telling her?

Is there a chance she won’t be disgusted and keep it to herself?

Can you imagine the joy of being accepted by someone?

And you could finally have someone to talk to about all your thoughts and feelings—I know I ain’t been the best for that, and I know that’s something you’ve always wanted and needed.

As for the boys at the garage, don’t worry about those schmucks.

They’ve made fun before, as you know only too well.

But they’re too clueless to think that what they imply is actually true.

It’s just their way. They tease and taunt each other mercilessly, and I believe they just think of you as one of them and include you in their jokes.

Anyway, I throw them off the scent all the time with my lewd stories about loose women.

In fact, half those bozos have come to me at one point or another for advice, thinking I have a way with the girls—taking what I want, moving on, and never having to settle down.

I know me playing the part of the bachelor has hurt you sometimes, and that kills me, but it’s kept us safe this long, right?

I’m sure you want to know how things are here, and I’m happy to report we’ve had a good run lately.

We’re pushing forward, and so far we’ve met little resistance.

Thank God because we couldn’t have endured much more.

We’ve suffered so many losses and are just so fucking tired.

There’s only so long a man can withstand living in constant fear, adrenaline running through your veins day and night.

One boy was sent home last week. It was like his mind had broken.

He would just stare, eyes blank, unwilling to speak, or maybe unable, I don’t know.

The things we’ve seen . . . it’s the stuff of nightmares, Red, but in some ways this shook me worst of all.

He was only 19. Christ, I’m thankful every day that you’re not here and that you’ve been spared.

I guess I best tell you that I got into a fight with a couple of the boys over Johnson.

I think it was always in the cards. They kept calling him names I’d rather not repeat and treating him like he wasn’t a real man, as if the color of his skin somehow made him lesser than.

I just snapped. I got in a couple good jabs before some of the other boys broke it up.

No one snitched, so it’s all good. Johnson’s had my back from day one, so it was time I stood up and did right by him.

I don’t regret it, so don’t bother scolding me in your next letter.

I’ve got to put the pen down now if I want this letter to make it on the next mail run.

I should have said more—I’m sorry. I love you, sweetheart.

I wish I could write real romantic things like you do, but you know I got no great way with words.

But I know that you’re more important than everyone else on this godforsaken earth.

You’re always my first thought when I wake and my last before I fall asleep and a thousand more in between.

I want to run my hands through your fire red hair and brush my fingers over the freckles on your shoulders.

I want to gaze into your beautiful green eyes and bring my lips to yours.

You said in your letter that you will love me for 60 more years if God grants it.

Sweetheart, I will love you for all of this life and for all eternity.

Forever yours,

Charlie xox